


Memento

by loveiscosmicsin



Series: Collection of Completed FFXV Pairing Week Prompts 2017 [3]
Category: FF15, FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy 15, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, GladPro - Freeform, Glompto - Freeform, M/M, NSFW, ProGlad - Freeform, Promptioweek, Promptioweek2017, World of Ruin, promptio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 11:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11356308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveiscosmicsin/pseuds/loveiscosmicsin
Summary: Absence made the heart grow fonder, but that was a load of chocobo shit. In a world shrouded by complete darkness, they dealt with many unknowns and words gone unspoken. Their reunions were celebrations while parting ways filled them with the gaping emptiness and longing that wasn’t present before.Day 5: Memento





	Memento

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW, contains sex (safe sex practice), addiction, drug use, grievous injuries, and a main character death mention. Prompto and Gladiolus have a friends with benefits relationship and it treads on "Will they or won't they?" territory. This is how I imagine this pairing during World of Ruin, lots of grieving sex, insomnia, and skirting around the issue of feelings.
> 
> Thank god for letshareapapou for helping me write the sex scene and giving me a way to end this fic. Oh, for giving me rough, messy sketches of how car sex is possible.

[Tumblr Link](https://loveiscosmicsin.tumblr.com/post/162429544173/memento-loveiscosmicsin-multifandom-archive)

How long had it been?

“You need a shower.”

“So do you. Motor grease’s not your best scent.”

How long did they have?

“Hey, what’s this on your chin?”

“Growing a beard. You like?”

“If you can call it that. Makes you scruffy-looking.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Gladiolus raised his arms, smirking down at his blond lover while Prompto scoffed and peeled off the bothersome shirt, standing on his toes to peck his bearded chin. The blond’s breath hitched in his throat when he saw gauze wrapped at the brunet’s side, bright crimson, a recent wound. The Shield tilted the sharpshooter’s chin away from the injury and crushed his lips with his. This was always a rinse and repeat process and the Shield rather not waste words over the same conversations. The wound would heal and be added to another collection of scars with stories. Gladiolus’ cheek grazed Prompto’s as his tongue slid in his mouth.

How much longer could they keep going like this?

Absence made the heart grow fonder, but that was a load of chocobo shit. In a world shrouded by complete darkness, they dealt with many unknowns and words gone unspoken. Their reunions were celebrations while parting ways filled them with the gaping emptiness and longing that wasn’t present before.

Prompto moaned involuntarily when Gladiolus’ lips sucked at his neck, hitched voice dancing on tongue, and his large hands moved from squeezing ass and to unzipping the blond’s fly. Prompto bit down on his own bottom lip, almost enough force to break skin. The Shield backed him up to an automobile, not caring that the commotion of fallen tools in the garage would gather attention. Gladiolus’ need grew larger by the second and Prompto met with it ten-fold.

They weren’t machines. Machines could keep functioning and could be repaired a finite number of times before breaking down indefinitely. Human resilience was far from everlasting, but it was the small things that kept them going. They still had each other to mend the cracks.

Gladiolus’ erection brushed repeatedly against Prompto’s stomach. He looked at the blond’s chest appreciatively, down to his stretch marks and happy trail. The large man enclosed his fingers over the rose-tinted nipples and tweaked them provocatively.

Holding his gaze, Prompto trailed his hand down the older man’s rippled stomach. He needed him yesterday, he’ll need him tomorrow, and most of all he needed him right now. “Gladio, let me fuck you.”

Gladiolus smirked, pleased by the direct request. “Yeah? Where? I don’t think that desk could take my weight.”

As tempting as it was to imagine Gladiolus bent over a desk and a perfectly sculptured ass that Prompto could bounce a coin off it shimmying before him, the blond had another fantasy in mind. “I’ve always wanted to have my way with you in a car.”

The large man looked over the younger man’s head. The automobile they were pressed against was a convertible that Prompto had been repairing, its roof was drawn back, offering feasible room to do what they pleased.

Gladiolus laughed, half-aghast, half-amused. “That’s gonna be a tight squeeze.”

“Think you’ll be okay?”

“It’s no Regalia, but I’ll get used to it.” Gladiolus answered as he stepped out his boxers and jeans. “We’re living your wet dream right now, hero.”

“Minus the hand on foggy window cliché,” Prompto sighed. “That’ll be pretty hot.”

“Run that by me later.”

From their numerous encounters at Hammerhead, Prompto strategically concealed lubricant and condoms where they can be easily accessed. In this case, he reached into a drawer in the workbench.

All this tension of open and not-so-subtle flirtations and casual sex, Prompto and Gladiolus were never definitive about the relationship in their early twenties. Gladiolus was firm about not pursuing anything romantic while he served as Noctis’ Shield and Prompto was able to rhapsodize about his crushes on Cidney and Aranea without thinking negatively about it afterward. It wasn’t that their arrangement was a secret, Noctis and Ignis had teased them about it on occasion, but it never went anywhere beyond what it was. Until nine months after Noctis disappeared. They found each other, ensnared in a tangle of limbs, a lover’s knot.

Had the world not ended up the way that it did, would they be here right now like this? Prompto never sought out his infatuations and it didn’t matter to him what Gladiolus did, they always came together and their intimacy became more desperate and profound, a gift in their mutual benefit. Gladiolus held him in better regard now, unlike how he did in the past. They were older and mature about what they wanted.

In a way, Prompto was devoted to Gladiolus as he remained monogamous, looking forward to the next time they could blow off steam. Seeing him in general made the highlight of his day and there were very few to be found in this world.

Prompto kissed Gladiolus until the Shield’s naked back was lying flat on the seat cushions, pressed together. It was cramped as the Shield confirmed, but that wasn’t reflected in the way he hungrily ogled the blond.

Not wasting a second, Prompto spread some lube between Gladiolus’ thighs and smeared it around the head of his cock. Gladiolus groaned under the blond’s roving hand while the latter rolled on a condom with the other.

Prompto breathed as he teased Gladiolus’ puckered hole with his cock. “Tight squeeze…” He held in his breath as he slid the head in, pushing further until his shaft was buried between muscular thighs. Gladiolus’ grunts spurred him on.

Prompto leaned in the plant a sloppy kiss onto Gladiolus’ mouth as he topped out, burying his face into the Shield’s neck with a moan. That wet, smoldering heat surrounding his cock had the blonde’s hips thrusting generously, it had been too long. He heard Gladiolus curse, and felt a meaty hand wiggling between their bodies a moment later.

“Gonna jack off, big guy?” Prompto groaned as he pulled out to until just the head was inside. He admired the other man stroke himself in long, slow motions. His cock was ample and pronounced in thick veins, the head of it was already a dark red. Prompto licked his lips and pushed in another inch, Gladiolus’ hand shook as he groaned, his walls clenching around the blond. Prompto moaned and shoved in again. And again. Gladiolus’ hand sped up to match the pace and his hips arched toward Prompto.

“Fuck. You miss my cock or something?” Prompto laughed as he bent over the large man, shoving back in hard. Gladiolus let out a loud grunt, precum coating his hand. “Shiva, I forgot how tight you were.” He whispered, awed, slowing down his thrusts again to watch the pearly drops leak over Gladiolus’ stomach. He ran his hand through the glistening mess, bracing the other on the headrest and pounded home. Gladiolus gripped his cock tight. He was close.

“Yes. So good, Gladio.” Prompto’s voice was low as he remorselessly circled his hips, refusing to relent.

“There!" Gladiolus groaned, body jolting. His toes actually curled. "Fuck, Prompto!"

“Hit your sweet spot?” Prompto asked, voice breathy when the answer was given when Gladiolus tucked his legs around his waist, obvious question was obvious. The Shield’s knuckles brushed the blond’s chest as the older man jerked himself furiously. He climaxed first, yelling when hot cum splashed on his chest and Prompto’s belly and thighs.

“Fuck, I wanna lick that up. Need to taste you.” Prompto panted, running his hand through it again and sucking greedily on his fingers.

Gladiolus make a sharp noise at the lewd pops the blond made at the withdrawn gestures. He bucked, fingers flying to grab at Prompto’s ass and shove him in deeper. The blond cried out, following with a shout as the walls around his cock held him like a vise, hips twisting in jerky motions as he orgasmed finally. His cock slipped out but he couldn’t resist pushing back in when he was semi-hard, the head entered easily as Gladiolus went lax under him.

The Shield twitched at the intrusion, slapping the blond’s ass. He lifted his head up a bit, one eye closed, hair disheveled. “You came, yeah? Pull out, you bitch.”

Prompto laughed, a ragged sigh escaped him. “Say please.”

“Bite me.” Gladiolus retorted sharply.

“Careful what you wish for.” Prompto joked, pulling out slowly and peeling off the condom. He tossed it outside the car. “Because you might get it.” He said in a sing-a-long tone as he nipped the side of the Shield’s hand.

The men watched each other breathe deeply, slowly, the sweat and cum cooling off their bodies. Finally, Gladiolus wrapped an arm around Prompto, brushing his freckled cheek with the back of his other hand, sending something in the blond’s heart flutter.

There were a million and one things Prompto wanted to say, but left them unsaid, pillow talk was never something they did. He kept his silence as he buried his face in the Shield’s neck, the scent of tomorrow. Instead, he asked about the story behind one of the scars Gladiolus bore and even though it was a story already shared and Prompto could tell it himself if he wanted to, the Shield regaled him.

-

Prompto had his arm over his face, shielding his eyes in a futile attempt to get some sleep. He couldn’t sleep a wink and Gladiolus must’ve been aware because some time later, he announced that he was going to take a shower.

They were nighttime creatures, sleep did not come to them easily like it once had. The two of them joked about sleep deprivation and how heavy the bags were under their eyes, that Ignis looked more refreshed considering, but they couldn’t be any farther from the truth. Silence filled the void, a familiar companion when words were absent. Restlessness and emptiness was a reminder that their little breather from reality was to an end, Gladiolus would leave for who knows how long this time while Prompto remained behind to keep Hammerhead Station running like a well-oiled machine. Humanity was counting on every hand on board this nightmare.

Prompto rolled over and took Gladiolus’ pillow in his arms, inhaling the Shield’s enticing musk deeply. Adrenaline rush arrived in bursts and sometimes it was impossible to come down from the high. He never felt quite so alive like he did in the heat of battle or sex, those events fulfilled his every need. He was hard at the thought of it. When he and Gladiolus fucked, his body was on fire and he felt that it was all right to lower his defenses, they were champions fucking each other’s brains out. In the rare instances Prompto, Gladiolus, and Ignis fought together, he prayed that the hunts wouldn’t end and they could remain a team like they had in their younger years. But the hunts came to an end and they went on separate paths, it was rare to see the three of them together.

But they were one man short in the team. Without Noctis, they were incomplete. Three cannot be four.

The gunslinger rolled back over, pillow still tucked in his arms and back to the exit, and he felt like he could finally sleep.

The bed springs in the mattress sang under Gladiolus’ weight, signaling his return. Prompto felt like he just had closed his eyes.

“You taste like an exhaust pipe.”

Prompto turned his head, seeing a freshly showered Gladiolus out of the corner of his eye in the dark. “What?”

“You’ve been smoking. I smell it on your clothes and bed.”

The blond rolled over and stuck out his tongue defiantly. “You’re not gonna go anti-drugs campaign on me, are you?”

Prompto had been trying to quit smoking. But it was easier said than done. He hated the feeling of patches and the popping of nicotine gum drove Cid insane. The gum was like chewing on a pair of dirty tube socks and worse, the blond couldn’t blow bubbles with it, but at least it helped curb his agitation. It still didn’t beat smoking. Aranea threatened to rearrange his vocal chords when Prompto snapped at Cidney that one time; it wasn’t his fault, quitting sucked. Then Prompto relapsed, but smoked sparingly, focused on his hygiene more, focused on cleaning out the ashtrays before they got full. He was a responsible smoker.

Gladiolus begged to differ.

At least the blond had the decency to not smoke around Gladiolus and to wash himself well enough so he wouldn’t be bothered. Sometimes when Prompto couldn’t sleep, he would go outside to light one up. The younger man wasn’t stupid to do it while on the clock or near gas pumps.

“No, but I care enough to tell you to quit before you move on to something harder.”

“What are you, my boyfriend?” The blond scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Prompto clamped a hand over his mouth, he had said something forbidden, labeled the relationship and he didn’t know if his heart was pounding frantically out of apprehension or hope for a confirmation or both. He felt Gladiolus’ bright amber eyes burn into him and he wanted to hide under the covers.

“Boyfriend,” Gladiolus enunciated quietly as if tasting the word. “Yeah, and your boyfriend gives a damn about your health.”

The gunslinger didn’t know how the Shield relieved stress, but a long drag personally worked best for him. “Maybe my boyfriend should butt—” A hand slid under Prompto’s pillow, cutting his reprimand off. “Hey!”

“I’m confiscating these. And throwing them out.”

Prompto sat upright and launched himself at the behemoth, lunging for the stolen cigarettes. Gladiolus held it away from reach and stood at the side of the bed.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he promised, shaking the packet. “These things will kill you.”

Prompto threw a pillow at his face. “Jerk.”

Gladiolus deflected the projectile easily and grinned smugly. “Punk.”

And when the gunslinger successfully nailed the Shield in the face with the second pillow, his heart raced rapidly and his face was hot hearing that endearing nickname from Gladiolus’ lips. Of course, at the time, he blamed it on not being denied from smoking, nothing more.

-

Gladiolus got hurt. Hurt real bad.

Prompto didn’t know it was him until a group of Hunters wheeled him in. Hammerhead and Lestallum were the last bastions and sanctuaries humanity got left; bodies, dead or alive, came and went. Naturally, he dropped everything that he was doing and ran after them.

“Gladio? Gladio!” Prompto took the Shield’s hand between his own and dared to access the damage.

Gladiolus was unresponsive, a tube was lodged in the mouth and his skin was punctured by an array of smaller tubes like a pincushion. His chest rose and fell at a painstakingly slow pace and someone was pumping air into his incapacitated body. There was so much blood that Prompto couldn’t discern where Gladiolus’ began and ended. It was an awful sight, and Prompto wanted to deny that there was no way in Eos this was Gladiolus. He had to face reality whether he wanted to or not.

“Oh my god,” Prompto gasped, gripping the hand close to his chest. “What the hell happened?” Nobody paid him any heed, they were too occupied trying to save the man’s life and wheeling him to a room. Prompto had to steel himself from reaching out and shaking one of the saviors or perpetrators responsible for bringing him here. “Answer me!”

The cart was soon approaching the make-shift building for emergency care and Prompto was determined to follow. A hand touched his arm, holding him back. He was forced to watch everyone disappear past the doors.

Cidney, the plucky and cheerful sweetheart of the Hammerhead, had a solemn expression on her face, but her grip was strong. “Don’t. You need to let them do their thing now.”

The head mechanic didn’t stay long, she had a list of duties past the length of her arm managing order and sending Hunters out on missions; she really had her work cut out for her. Prompto was only one man, it hardly would be fair for Cidney to comfort him. It wouldn’t speed up Gladiolus’ time in surgery.

So he waited for what felt like an eternity. He gnawed at his fingernails and watched people, Hunters and civilians, engage in their normal activities like death and desperation happened every day and it was. This fucked up world and anyone’s life could easily be snatched away in an instant. The sharpshooter curled up on the bench and raked his fingers through his hair, eyes concentrated on the caked mud and oil stains on his boots. He knew he should be doing something, useless for doing nothing.

“You hanging in there, shortcake?” Prompto looked up from his feet and found Aranea standing in front of him. He stared back until he realized she asked him a question. It felt like his mouth was stuffed with cotton that he could only nod stiffly. She crossed her arms and glanced over her shoulder at the chaos. “Heard about Gladio.”

“Yeah…” He whispered, his lip trembling as he spoke, “He… he’s in bad shape.”

“Means he ain’t dead yet.” The Dragoon took a seat next to the sharpshooter and stared ahead. “Keep a stiff upper lip and keep on hoping.”

Neither of them spoke much after that, Prompto wasn’t feeling talkative and it wasn’t in Aranea’s nature to mince words or instill the man with false hope. She left his side briefly to get him a cup of coffee, it went cold and untouched. The older woman could’ve left to see Cidney or checked in with Biggs and Wedge, do anything else since it’s clear to her that someone else would be better equipped to offer a shoulder to cry on, but she didn’t. The fact that Aranea stayed instead of bolting when she had the chance was more than enough. Prompto was grateful for her presence.

After some time, a young Hunter emerged from the entrance. His right arm was in a sling, and he was limping with the assistance of a crutch but tucked neatly under his good arm was a bulky plastic parcel. He hopped toward the people occupying the bench. Prompto and Aranea stood at attention.

“Let me guess. Some daemon made you their punching bag, didn’t they?” Aranea assessed, pointing out the Hunter’s battered face and almost swelled-shut eye. “You sure took one for the team, rookie.”

“No, not me, ma'am,” the crestfallen Hunter gnashed his teeth and the knuckles gone sheet white as he gripped the crutch. “Amicitia did.”

Prompto’s eyes widened. Was Gladiolus on a mission before he arrived here? “What happened?”

The Hunter turned to the blond, recognition gleamed in his good eye. “Argentum, sir, I…” He swallowed, starting to snivel before the two. “We answered a distress call for survivors holed up at a Crow’s Nest. We were ambushed once we got the civilians to safety. It happened so fast. Amicitia threw himself at the daemons—”

Prompto didn’t hear the rest of the story. He heard what he needed to know.

“Prompto.” Aranea’s voice made the sharpshooter’s mind surface back to reality.

“You zoned out before that rookie finished.” Prompto flinched, choking on nothing and Aranea continued. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna repeat what he said. But your man’s a hero. There would’ve been more casualties if he didn’t act like he did.” She shook her head and shrugged. “If only he did it without putting himself in danger.”

“You didn’t see him, Aranea.” Prompto was surprised at how detached he sounded and Aranea raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t some video game that the hero comes back. Once you’re down, that’s it, Game Over.”

The Shield would put his life at the line for a stranger. He wouldn’t strike back at the drunk who gave him his first scar all those years ago because he couldn’t harm a crown citizen. He acted like he was invincible when he wasn’t and his spirit refused to give up even when he’s sorely outmatched.

“Here.” Aranea pressed the parcel against the blond’s arm. Prompto numbly took it. “Rookie was holding on to this for you. He’s real grateful for what Gladio did.”

Biggs, one of Aranea’s subordinates, walked up to the two. His white uniform was rumpled, dirty, and he looked like he’s seen better days.

“Oh, it’s you,” Aranea regarded him with a nod. “Got a status report?”

“The _Siren_ ’s patched and ready to go, ma’am. Wedge’s running the diagnostics right now. We can leave as soon you’re done here.”

“Good job. Have some coffee.” Aranea handed him Prompto’s untouched coffee.

“Er, you didn’t drink this, did you?” The skeptical sub-commander sniffed at the cup.

“Remember, Biggs, coffee is good for two things only: nostalgia and warming up cold hands.” The older woman remarked in a callous manner that would greatly offend a coffee enthusiasts worldwide.

Biggs spat out the liquid, grimacing. “Lady A, it’s cold!”

“I didn’t say it was hot so quit being a baby. Drink marlboro piss for all I care, I need you in tiptop shape. Come on, I gotta kiss the grease-monkey goddess bye before we go.” The Dragoon Lady waved a hand, unsympathetic to her subordinate’s griping, started to move toward Takka’s Diner with the latter following behind. She halted and turned to Prompto. “Hey, shortcake. About what you said about video games and crap, big guy’s fighting for his life right now. You think this is ‘Game Over’ for him? He’s gonna make it.”

Prompto watched Aranea and Biggs leave before opening the parcel she gave him. Inside was Gladiolus’ clothes or what was left of them: boots, jeans, shirt, and jacket. All torn and frayed, soaked in blood and grime.

As the sharpshooter unraveled the jacket, a package fell out of the inner pockets, his favorite cigarette brand, Lucky Strike.  

The very brand that Prompto contemplated smuggling in his stomach behind Gladiolus’ back and earnestly bribed fellow Hunters for, every drag he made like his last. The Shield fought with him to quit, stolen them, too. When he thought Gladiolus had disposed them, they had been in his jacket pocket the entire time.

The cardboard packet was crumpled and the clear plastic around it was peeling. Blood had seeped through. The blond smacked the bottom of the box against the flat of his palm, counting sixteen out of twenty cylinders – the exact number he remembered having before Gladiolus took it. That was a week ago, a week since Prompto feared defining the relationship and allowed himself to be happy because his boyfriend felt the same way. Part of him regretted letting his heart speak for him because tragedy was just around the corner to snatch it all away. He jinxed something and this was the universe's punishment.

But now, he regretted not telling Gladiolus everything he wanted to say, for holding back when there wasn’t any reason to. Prompto wanted him back, tell him that he loved him, scream at him for getting hurt like that, cry when everything will be okay, embrace the scent of tomorrow once more.

“Please, let him be okay.” Prompto finally allowed himself to cry, the tears flowed endlessly and landed on the cigarette pack. His shoulders trembled with guilt and anguish. It didn’t matter who heard him as he poured his wishes out, doubtful that the higher powers would agree to bargaining when they forsaken humanity long ago. “I’ll do anything. I’ll quit smoking for good. I swear." He hugged the Shield's clothes. "Just… don’t take him away from me.”

-

Dawn had returned to the world.

Noctis was gone. Again. But this time, he wasn’t coming back. The four-man band was reunited again only for three men to be alone once more.

Yet, as Prompto sat on one of the massive steps leading to the palace, he kept looking over his shoulder like the King of Light was about to march on out, brushing the fact that he completed the last chapter of the prophecy like it was nothing. He and Noctis had a promise to bring down the borders of Lucis and Niflheim and make the world a better place; his idea and Prompto was more than happy to help.

He never came out and Ignis had stormed into the palace by himself.

Is this what victory was supposed to feel like? The sharpshooter wondered. Seeing and being able to feel light that wasn’t from glow worms and light bulbs was greatly missed. There was promise that life could go on, it was a future without fear that everyone fought for, but victory rang hollow. It doesn’t change the fact that many died for this or lives were forever shaped these last ten years. Was this sunrise worth it in the end?

Once again, he jinxed, allowed himself another moment to be happy and that's how the universe had to say about that.

He rubbed at his swollen eyes and nose, sniffling. He had no answer. Then his nose started to tickle and—

“AH-CHOO!”

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.” Prompto wiped his nose on his wet sleeves.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t change out of those.” Gladiolus said as he sat down next to Prompto.

The heavy rain and the Iron Giants went when the sun rose. The King’s retinue were drenched to the bone, Prompto felt his Kingsglaive garb starting to dry. He had dreamed of wearing it once upon a time ago and now he could cross it off his bucket list now.

What he wouldn’t do for a cigarette right about now.

It was a weird thought, he hadn’t smoked for three years, not since the day Gladiolus got hurt. Not that his cravings had completely gone away, sheer willpower and his bargaining promise were extremely effective in quitting.

His past self would be craving for a cigarette after a stressful ordeal. His current self closed his eyes and attempted to welcome the restored light he had a hand in bringing. The world was whole and it felt like everything will have to be all right.

Gladiolus’ shoulders touched the blond’s gently. Prompto looked at him and down at what was in the Shield’s hand. The same Lucky Strike cigarette packet he carried three years ago. The blond didn’t know what to make of the gesture, now knowing that the only reason the brunet had them was a reminder that he had to help him quit smoking. Prompto was one of those reasons, Gladiolus claimed, that he stayed alive during those ten years.

Gladiolus’ expression was serious. “Just this once.”

Prompto took the packet with solemn reverence, turning it over in his hands. The packet had seen better days, water soaked it through. Maybe if he had smoked one, it would like old times. He opened it and some rainwater poured out. The cylinders were bent crookedly and had unraveled, spilling out a mess of tobacco as he selected one, one out of sixteen, once a total of twenty. He laughed, laughed so hard that his bruised ribs screamed for mercy, his voice cracked and wobbled. Even if he had a functioning lighter and could smoke one of those death sticks, it wasn’t worth succumbing to the addiction again.

Instead of putting it to his lips, Prompto crushed, chosen cigarette and packet, all, under his boot. “Don’t need them anymore.”

Gladiolus assumed an earnest expression, but his voice betrayed his amusement. “You mean I was carrying them for nothing?”

“Hey, you wanted me to quit in the first place.” Prompto pouted, feeling relieved to put it in the open. “Aren’t I sexier now that I did?”

“Yeah,” Gladiolus said, putting his arm around the blond and the younger man melted in the embrace. The Shield swallowed, his shoulders quaking and Prompto brought him in tighter as the tears that could be felt begun. “I’m proud of you.”

For them, the cigarette packet was a memento. Now, it was nothing more than a memory, that was one of the terms they had come to accept.


End file.
